


And May All Your Christmases Be White

by RedPensandGreenArrows



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Gift Exchange, Ridiculousness, Romance, Sexy Times, holiday party, it's the magic of Christmas y'all, they're just dorks in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21867424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedPensandGreenArrows/pseuds/RedPensandGreenArrows
Summary: Dr. Strand doesn’t make it to the PNWS holiday party, so Alex plays Santa’s little helper and delivers a couple of gifts. Who says Christmas magic doesn’t exist?
Relationships: Alex Reagan/Richard Strand
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	And May All Your Christmases Be White

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Black Tapes Fandom! Long time, no see! Told you my muse was sporadic… Well here’s a little holiday installment for you! This plot bunny popped into my head a few days ago, and I ran with it. Because truthfully, it’s been ages since I’ve written anything, and I do miss it. Also, this fic has not be beta-ed, so all mistakes are mine, apologies.
> 
> I wish all of my readers the most joyous of holidays, whatever you celebrate! And please see the end comment for some extra information.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this little fic, and please leave a review Thanks!

Alex cackled as a severely wasted Nicodemus Silver twisted to _Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree_ at the annual PNWS holiday party. In vain she attempted to stem the resulting tears from ruining her make up that took her a good chunk of the afternoon to complete, but it was proving difficult. The light-up Christmas tree hat, hideous “ugly” sweater, and the fact he was wearing sunglasses upside down weren’t helping matters either. Yet, the description easily summed up Nic Silver, and it filled Alex’s heart to see her friend having so much fun. Everyone was having fun. From her bosses, Paul and Terry, to all the interns, this party was a hit, and a much-deserved break from the chaos that was their current story.

Sighing, the smile slowly dropped from Alex’s face as her mind stepped away from the party in front of her. Even surrounded by merriment and a relaxing atmosphere, Alex was unsettled that the night didn’t feel complete. Glancing over at the wall clock, only 45 minutes remained of the evening’s festivities, and that definitely meant _he_ wasn’t going to be showing up. Truthfully, she shouldn’t be surprised. Strand never made it to their Thanksgiving potluck either, but at least he had a good excuse being back in Chicago at the time. Tonight, he claimed to be grading final essays; however, Alex hoped he would stop by, even for a little bit. Strand became a part of the PNWS family even if he refused to realize it, and she hoped he would take a small break for some non-demonic related fun.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Alex tossed her now cold cup of cider and began clearing the tables. It wasn’t long before Paul saddled up beside her.

“Hey, Alex.”

“Hey, Paul! Enjoying the party?”

“Yeah, it’s been great. Everyone’s worked so hard, they deserve a nice wind-down to the end of the year.”

Alex nodded and continued to clean up.

“Terry and I are about to head out, but I just wanted to catch up with you and thank you for all of your hard work. I know it’s cost you personally, and _maybe_ we’ve had a few causes for concern more than we’d like.”

Alex rolled her eyes but took the comment good-naturedly.

“But we really do appreciate how much you care about this story. Just don’t forget to take care of yourself, okay? You’re more important than any story.”

Alex smiled, but her stomach sank. She really had put her producers through the wringer this last year. “Thanks, Paul. Happy holidays,” Alex replied with a quick hug.

“You, too. It’s a shame Dr. Strand couldn’t make it tonight, but since you’re more likely to see him before we do, do you mind passing this along?” Paul handed her a heavy bottle of scotch with a decorative velvet bow tied around the neck. “Just a little thank you from Terry and I for being a part of this project.”

+|+|+|+|+|+|+

With the PNWS office back in order, and Amalia promising to get Nic home safely, Alex plopped into her driver’s seat and groaned as she waited for the car to warm up. She was exhausted. Her nice, warm bed sounded fantastic right about now; not that she would get much sleep. Sighing, Alex’s head lolled to the side and she stared at the items sitting in her passenger seat. Expensive scotch and a neatly wrapped gift box stared back. Only a few days remained before she would be heading to her parent’s place for the holidays and she had no idea what Strand’s plans were. So, tonight really was the best option for giving Strand his gifts. She should drive by and see if he was still up. Decision made, Alex put her car in drive and headed off.

Driving through Strand’s neighborhood was like a scene right out of a Hallmark Christmas movie. Victorian-style homes decked in colorful Christmas lights, with candles in every window and a large wreath on the front door lined both sides of the street. The snow that had begun falling as she made her way towards his house put the cherry on top. However, Strand’s father’s house easily stood out amongst the rest. Not a single Christmas decoration in sight, and the only light came from the flickering, muted glow seen through the living room windows. This meant Strand was working solely by the light from his side-table lamp and fireplace. A part of Alex hated herself for knowing that, but she couldn’t deny that she spent more time inside this house than she had her own apartment these past months.

The motion-activated porch light kicked on as Alex climbed up the steps, gifts in hand. Aware of just how late it was, she opted to knock instead of ring the doorbell. A gruff _“one moment”_ called out, and after a few beats a slightly bedraggled Richard Strand opened the door.

“Oh, Ms. Reagan.”

“Hey, Dr. Strand. I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“No,” he sighed gesturing towards the coffee table, “Just grading papers as I stated earlier.” He sounded tired.

“Right.” It unnerved Alex how the most innocuous statement from him could make her feel like an ass. “Well, I won’t keep you long. I just have a few things I need to give you.”

Nodding, Strand stepped to the side and welcomed her in.

“I’m going to refill my cup; can I offer you some tea?”

“That would be great,” Alex replied as she removed her heavy coat and shook the snow from her hair.

Making herself comfortable on one end of the couch and watching him walk to the kitchen, Alex noted that sweatpants and a cable-knit sweater replaced his normal crisp, clean attire. She could count on one hand the number times she’d seen him this dressed down, but the good doctor wore it well. It was rather rude how he could wear just about anything and still look hot. Shaking those thoughts from her head, Alex glanced towards to unusually cluttered coffee table. Student’s papers covered every inch, and the current report sitting front and center sported lots of red ink in between paragraphs and down the margins. Alarmed, she leaned closer, trying to decipher what Strand had written.

“Geez,” Alex exclaimed when Strand returned with two mugs, “wouldn’t it be easier to just write _APOPHENIA_ across the front of their papers. It would probably save you some writing.”

Strand chuckled. “As if I’d subject myself to reading papers debating the paranormal for a final exam. Those aren’t all bad, most are just comments.”

“Well, you might consider a different pen color, and save your students the heart attack.”

Fighting the barest hint of a smile, he turned toward Alex and replied, “And what would be the joy in that?”

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head with a smile.

“So, what can I do for you, Ms. Reagan?”

“Well, since you couldn’t make it to the party this evening, I’ve brought you your gifts.”

Strand raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

“First, this is from Paul and Terry,” she passed him the alcohol, “as a thank you. We all know that you were kinda thrown into this project, and we really appreciate your help and continued working with us.”

Making a noise in the back of his throat, Strand appeared to study the bottle. “This was unnecessary, but a gesture appreciated all the same. I’ll make sure to send along a thank you to the both of them.”

Alex waited a beat, then with a deep breath continued. “And this,” she spoke softly, grabbing the gift box beside her, “this is from me. Merry Christmas, Richard.”

His lips parted as if to say something, but instead Strand took the gift and began unwrapping it. His movements were slow, like he couldn’t decide whether to be nervous on what he would find inside or overwhelmed that Alex got him a present. Removing the lid, he pushed the tissue paper to the side and stared down at the item. There was a pause in which nothing was said, and Alex waited with bated breath to see what Strand’s reaction would be.

His shoulders slumped defeated, and he turned to her with the most dead-pan expression. “You’re hysterical.”

Alex was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Will you please wear it on our next investigation?”

“No.”

“Oh, c’mon! It’s for the podcast!”

Strand sighed, and removed the item from the box, holding it up in front of his face. A solid black t-shirt with the words _DESIGNATED GHOST BAIT_ in bright, white letters stared back at him.

“For the podcast…” he grumbled, “a purely _audio_ -based medium, in case you have forgotten. Makes perfect sense.”

The laughter won out, and Alex doubled over with tears streaming down her face. “The second I saw it, I had to get it for you. It’s fantastic; I love it!”

Annoyed, Richard sipped his tea and waited for Alex to compose herself.

“C’mon, you have to admit it’s a pretty perfect gift.”

Silence.

“So, will you where it on our next investigation?”

“No.”  
  


“Please! I swear I’ll only ask this one time.”

“No.”

Another giggle escaped before Alex sighed dramatically. “Fine! I won’t make you wear it to an investigation, BUT!”

Strand groaned; he actually thought she was going to let it go.

“Only if you put it on now, so I can see you in the shirt. Then I promise to never ask about it again.”

There was another pause, and then Strand pushed off the couch with a huff. “This will be the _only_ time,” he growled, pointing at Alex menacingly.

She held up her hands. “Cross my heart.”

Grabbing the offending shirt, Strand stalked down the hallway into the powder room. Alex preened internally at her minor victory and readied her phone before he got back. Two minutes later, the sound of bare feet on the hardwood floor alerted Alex to Strands return. Cable-knit sweater now in hand, Strand stood there with arms presented and an annoyed countenance.

“Happy?”

“Exceedingly,” Alex replied gleefully before raising her phone and snapping a handful of photos before he could blink. “Oh, this is so going on Facebook.”

“ _Alex_.”

“Seriously, the fans will go nuts.”

“ _Alex, don’t you dare_.”

Growly Strand was someone Alex was used to dealing with; however, what she didn’t expect was Strand to sprint the remaining few feet to the couch and lunge for her phone. She sprawled herself across its length and extended her arms high above her head, clasping her phone tightly in both hands. Strand, now laying practically on top of her, tried desperately with one hand to wrestle the phone from her grasp. When his efforts proved futile, he stopped and locked eyes with Alex. It only took a moment for the pair to realize the position they were in. Neither said a word, and everything was still. Alex swallowed thickly. It felt intense gazing into Strand’s eyes; she desperately wanted to look away, but equally terrified to do just that. Finally, she disturbed their staring contest by glancing above their heads for a brief second.

“What?” Strand questioned when her gazed returned.

“Checking for mistletoe,” Alex unconsciously licked her lips, “because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was a scene from a cheesy Christmas romcom come to life.”

Strand’s gaze stole to her lips and lingered. “I pity any man who needs the aid of a plant to clue him in on what to do.”

Alex’s eye widened, but before she could even think of a response, Strand’s lips were on hers. The kiss stole breath, logical function, and thought, but left Alex with enough sense to respond. Her phone fell from her hands with a clatter, landing somewhere over the side of the couch, and she immediately reached to pull him closer. This moment wasn’t soft and chase; it was months of pent up passion, and want, and desire all unfolding in a spectacular fashion on the couch in Strand’s father’s house.

“Richard,” Alex breathed when they parted for air.

However, Strand didn’t stop his amorous assault and moved his kisses towards her neck. Good lord! Not only did his voice do unmentionable things to her, but Alex was discovering that Richard Strand could perform a multitude of wonderful skills with is mouth. She couldn’t wait!

“Alex,” Strand’s voice was muffled by knitted fabric, “your sweater appears to be impeding my plans.”

“Unacceptable.” Alex pushed on Strand’s chest until she was sitting up and immediately discarded her sweater on the living room floor. Next she grabbed the hem of his shirt and began removing it as well.

“Not so fond of the shirt now, are we?” Strand teased.

“Shut up,” Alex retorted, flinging the shirt somewhere.

Grabbing the back of Strand’s neck, she crashed their lips back together; intent on finishing what he started. The rest of their clothes were removed just as quickly. There was no stopping this run-away freight train, no lingering touches, or memorizing feelings and sounds. The only slight paused came when Strand attempted to ask about protection; however, Alex spit out the words ‘birth control’ and immediately guided him inside her, effectively ending the conversation.

Bliss. Joy. Perfection. Whatever the moment wanted to be described as, both parties mentally agreed that it had taken them way too long to get here. Moving in sync, Strand cried out with a sound that could only be described as blissful agony. All Alex could do in return was hold him close and join in the sensations. Unfortunately, their first time didn’t last as long as either of them wanted, but Strand made damn sure Alex finished. Pushing firmly on her clit, he circled until she was shaking beneath him.

They were drenched. Alex never pegged Strand as a cuddler, but the feeling of his weight on top of her as they rested was something she didn’t realize how much she wanted until now. Dozing in the light of the burning fire, her fingers lazily carded through his damp hair as he lay relaxed in the valley of her breasts. Just as Alex hoped this moment would linger, the house showed its aged, and a draft raced along their cooling skin causing her to shiver in Strand’s arms.

Turning his head, he placed kisses along her sternum. “You’re cold.”

Alex shook her head. “No, just a chill.”

“Well, we can’t have that.”

Standing up, Strand located his sweatpants and slipped into them before handing Alex his sweater. Once semi-clothed, he picked her up, letting her wrap her legs around his waist, and carried her up to the bedroom he claimed after moving in. He placed her on the bed and moved to stoke the dying fire and add a couple logs to keep it burning throughout the night. Alex smiled; the firelight gave her a new silhouette to enjoy a half-naked Richard Strand in. Removing his sweater, she slipped naked beneath the covers, and turned on her side to watched him work.

“It really does look like you had this whole night planned out. Are you sure you’re not psychic?”

Strand chuckled, “I only planned on grading for another half an hour before retiring for the night. So, I lit this fire not long before you showed up.” Returning to the bed, he took off his pants and joined Alex, pulling her close. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not psychic.”

Alex hummed in response but said nothing more. Her leg automatically bent to tangle with his, and the hand not propping up her head up traveled slowly up his arm, across his chest, and back again, repeating the motion several times. Similarly, Strand watched Alex in quiet contemplation, his arm resting lightly about her waist with his thumb keeping a gentle sweeping motion across the small of her back.

“What are you thinking?”

Alex swallowed. “A part of me thinks this is too comfortable. That we should be acting more awkward than we are, like we haven’t been doing this for months instead of minutes.”

“Do you regret what just happened?”

“No! No, that’s not what I’m saying! I guess I’m just… surprised that’s all. But in a good way, I promise.”

“I’m glad. I don’t regret this… us either.”

Alex smiled, and Strand leaned forward to kiss her. And if he continued to kiss her like this, any doubts floating around in her head would be long gone.

“I also don’t regret saving myself from further public ridicule.”

Giggling, Alex continued between kisses, “Yes, you’re lucky I hadn’t made it on to Facebook or Twitter. However, you are my new phone background and lock screen. Just so you know.”

“Hmm… we’ll see about that.”

“Oh, really! And what are you going to do about it.”

“Well,” Strand’s voice dropped an octave as he pulled her closer, “if you promise to remove and delete all copies of that photo, I’ll treat you to a _proper_ wake-up call tomorrow.”

“And what does that entail?” Alex asked breathlessly.

“Let’s just say that while I may be eating before you, I’ll make sure you’ll enjoy every second of it.”

Another shiver passed through Alex’s body, but this time it was nothing to do with the cold.

“So, what do you say?”

Alex licked her dry lips, “Maybe…” Mentally shaking herself, she attempted to gain some control back by shifting the topic, “So, are you going to be very busy tomorrow?”

Strand shrugged, “I have only a paper or two more before I’m done. Why do you ask?”

“How would you feel about some extra company before I make my way to my parent’s house for Christmas?”

“I doubt your presence would be a terrible burden.”

Alex rolled her eyes at his teasing.

“I do have the most difficult time saying no to you, Alex Reagan,” he sighed.

“Even though you try so desperately to, Dr. Strand?” she laughed in return.

“Yes, even though.”

“So, you mean there is a chance I can get you to wear that shirt on –?”

But the rest of Alex’s question was cut off by Strand’s mouth on hers as he rolled her beneath his body. Now that he had a way to stop Alex from talking, he would happily bear the burden of doing so whenever the necessity arose. Tomorrow he’d give her the earrings he bought her in Italy and find a way to get rid of that shirt for good. Not that he didn’t appreciate her thinking of him, but he’d never be wearing that thing again. For the first time in a long time, Richard Strand was looking forward to a new day. For the first time in a long while, Richard Strand believed that his Christmases could once more be merry and bright.

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for Alex's gift to Strand 100% came from a post I saw on ZombieBabz's tumblr page ages ago. It's brilliant, I death cackled, and I finally found a way to fic it!
> 
> That being said, the lines:
> 
> “Oh, c’mon! It’s for the podcast!”
> 
> “For the podcast…” he grumbled, “a purely audio-based medium, in case you have forgotten. Makes perfect sense.”
> 
> Were also borrowed/paraphrased from that same post. So, all credit for those lines go to ZombieBabz. Thank you so much for the inspiration!!! 
> 
> Again, I wish you all a lovely holiday season, and I'll see you in the next fic!


End file.
